and that, for now, they were under the blanket of “anyone else.”
She plans to spend time with my family and knows it is going to be a huge adjustment, one that’s already causing her anxiety, but because she loves me, she’s going to work hard to overcome it.
It fucking sucks that she’s been through all that shit in her seventeen years, but it also makes her stronger than she knows, and so much better than those who have known no struggles.
I’m glad that my parents aren’t uppity fucks, that they don’t shelter me, or act like anything could wash through the shore and take it all away in the blink of an eye and, God-willing, leave behind what matters the most—human beings.
She made me promise that I wouldn’t contact her. Even threatened to shut off her phone if I did. She told me I needed to focus on the people in my life who were here before her, and she mentioned that she felt Tris needed me the most right now. She also said that, as much as she loves and adores me, that she needs space at times. So, this is good.
“Doesn’t feel really fucking good,” I mumble as I look up at the ceiling in the room I share with the male cousins at our cousin Dominic’s family’s house.
“Try a tighter grip,” Max says through a yawn.
“Maybe spit in your hand. Feels more natural,” Amias chimes in. “And if that fails, there are sheep around here. Max confirmed the rumors are true on day three without Seashore ass.”
Max laughs. “Fuck you.”
“You have a better shot at catching that sheep again,” Amias sighs.
I laugh. “You two are supposed to become more chill as you get older.”
“And you’re supposed to stop needing to rub one out when sharing a room with other boys,” Max says.
“Max?”
“Yeah, Tricks?”
“Fuck off.” I sit up and scrub my hands over my face.
“Where you going?” Amias asks.
“Nowhere. Why?”
“Thinking tittie beach tomorrow,” he says.
“Yeah, perfect,” Max agrees. “We can get more pictures of Amias sporting wood while he looks at old ladies.”
“Tits are tits.”
“Bro, she was, like, eighty.”
“And she was flattered. I could possibly be the last man to look at her tits with admiration.”
I step off the bed. “You two need to pick a new type. Max, stay away from the livestock. Amias”—I shake my head—“you need to do some praying.”
“Why are you busting on me harder than Max?” he calls to me as I walk out.
I turn and look at him. “Because I know he’s not fucking sheep, but I know you have a fucked-up way of trying to make an old woman’s day.”
I grab my guitar and walk through the home toward the covered lanai that overlooks the winery. I sit down and begin playing the first thing that pops in my head, “Closer” by Halsey.
“You should take lessons,” comes from a dark corner, and I jump. “And lose the pussy. What the hell do you think’s out here besides grapes and family?”
“Are you smoking?” I ask Tris.
She flicks it in the yard. “Nope.”
“If that was a cigarette, I’ll call Truth out here to kick your ass. If it’s a joint—”
“You want a hit?” she says dryly.
“No, I wanna know who’s selling it to you.”
“Max’s girlfriends,” she says on an exhale.
“Which one?”
“They all look the same, but she’s usually in the south pasture. Reddish tint to her wool.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Funny.”
“Yeah, if you would have let me finish that, it would have gotten better; trust me.”
I pick a few strings and ask, “What’s up with you?”
“Oh my God, Mom, I’m fine.” She starts to stand.
“Don’t pull that shit on me, Tris. I’m not your parents. Talk to me.”
“Nothing. Is. Wrong.”
“Sit,” I tell her.
She groans and crosses her arms.
“You fucking blew me out of the water at the talent show. That’s raw talent, and raw only happens when we’ve bled.”
“Save your pitch for someone who gives a fuck.”
“Okay, you wanna go that direction, we can. I was going to let you dish, take this at your own pace, but straight up, you think I don’t see shit and wanna step in, you’re wrong. I do. I see shit, and I hang back, because I know how important it is to work my own shit out. But you’ve been fucking miserable since the move. I saw the shit go down at the game.”
“By shit, you mean our two slutbag second cousins—”
“Okay, let’s take a walk.” I set my guitar down and walk over to